


je suis malade

by lesmoulinsrouges (silverskiies)



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-09 18:30:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17412017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverskiies/pseuds/lesmoulinsrouges
Summary: when it comes to all things Kaitlyn, everything felt right.except for letting her go.





	je suis malade

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic in this fandom and in a long time, so bear with me. I also do not know the most about Weaver & Poje, so just a disclaimer that this is purely fiction.
> 
> fic title from "je suis malade" by lara fabian  
> chapter titles from "dancing with a stranger" by sam smith & normani  
> fic loosely based off "ghost of you" by five seconds of summer
> 
> constructive criticism is much appreciated !!

_January 2, 2020_  


__  
He rolls out of bed with a pain in his chest. It’s not the type of pain you’d have from heart disease or any sort of health problem, but more like a feeling of emptiness. An emptiness that might either consume him or break down into heaving sobs.  
  
  
He glances at the sheets on the left side of the bed, untouched and pristine. Is that dust gathering on them? Had he really not touched them ever since  _then_?  
  
  
Okay, so maybe Andrew Poje was a little bit hopeless. Maybe he had fallen in love with his skating partner, who had run off with _him_. It was like Kaitlyn had decided that Andrew wasn’t worth her love. She had broken his heart into a million tiny little shards that would never be able to be picked up and put back together.  
  
  
He wants to throw up, just thinking about her. Everything about her brought him to life, from her toothy grins to her bright green eyes to her long blonde hair to her outgoing, always happy, always caring and giving personality. They were all things that spelled out _Kaitlyn_ , and the fact that he could no longer have her made his heart ache.  
  
  
After the second Thank You Canada Tour, they announced their retirement. They were no longer _Kaitlyn and Andrew_ or _Weaver and Poje_. They were separate. Kaitlyn had somehow decided that living with him was no longer necessary for working purposes, and gone with Jackson instead. Andrew remembers that day almost _too_ clearly. He remembers the heart-wrenching pain he’d experienced when Kaitlyn told him that Jackson (some douche she had met at Nationals in 2018) had asked her to move in with him, and soon after, to marry him. She had accepted, of course, because there were no more restrictions of... well, Andrew.  
  
  
She had told Andrew too many times that she’s really in love with Jackson.  
  
  
And not in love with Andrew.  
  
  
She never was.  
  
  
Much to the disbelief of those who watched their programs over the years, they were never dating. In some strange limbo of sleeping together and being each other’s best friend? Maybe. But they were never together romantically. Except for that one New Year’s Eve before Jackson ever stepped into their lives, when they’d decided, screw everything. He doesn’t want to think of it now, it caused him (and probably Kaitlyn as well) too much internal pain and struggle.  
  
  
He realizes now that the aftermath of New Year’s Eve 2018 was probably the sole reason he’d never made any other moves on Kaitlyn.  
  
  
Andrew takes a deep breath, steadying himself as he walks to the kitchen of their — no, _his_ — apartment. It’s not _theirs_ anymore. There’s no more sense of _they_ or _them_ in his life.  
  
  
He opens the kitchen cupboard so he can make himself a coffee. He had made a New Years resolution to make himself a coffee every morning instead of buying Tim Hortons. So on the second day of 2020, Andrew makes himself a coffee.  
  
  
He hasn’t had homemade coffee since Kaitlyn, so what Andrew sees when he opens the cupboard and searches for a mug nearly makes him break down into tears.  
  
  
It’s a teddy bear mug.  
  
  
_Her_  teddy bear mug.  
  
  
And it’s not the object that almost makes him cry, but the memories that come with it. Sort of like a brand deal. _Buy this teddy bear mug, and you’ll get long-lasting Kaitlyn-filled memories._  
  
  
He remembers her buying that mug and giving it to her after Nationals in 2018 when they learned that they hadn’t made the Team Event for the Olympics. In short, this mug had seemingly fixed the wrongs of both Nationals and the previous New Year’s Eve. Kaitlyn’s face had lit up at the sight of the simple mug, adorning a delicately painted teddy bear. Kaitlyn had always been fond of teddy bears, so when Andrew had seen it on a street merchant’s spread in Times Square in December of 2017, he thought of nothing but Kaitlyn and had to buy it. He doesn’t know why he didn’t give it to her right away, but even then, he just knew that he should save it for a day she would need it.  
  
  
It had slowly become Kaitlyn’s favourite mug. She drank from that mug whenever she brewed some sort of beverage for them that was typically drunk in a mug (she had tried putting champagne into it, but she promptly decided that champagne tasted and looked best in flutes). While Andrew was the better cook, Kaitlyn was definitely superior in the department of making all sorts of beverages (she specialized in hot chocolate and alcohol). Kaitlyn had a sort of intuition, in which she always knew just what to make to set the tone.  
  
  
He looks at the mug and he sees early mornings of Kaitlyn brewing them coffee. She would sit across from him at the small, round table in their kitchen and drink her coffee in small, short sips out of the mug so as not to burn herself. Kaitlyn liked her coffee as dark as possible with no additives, contradictory to her cheerful personality and to Andrew’s taste in the beverage. Andrew was always one to load his coffee with whatever he could get his hands on to make it taste sweeter, but he added nothing to his coffee this morning.  
  
  
Andrew sits at his usual place on the table, facing the kitchen. Kaitlyn had always chosen to look out the window when she ate, and he would usually sit across from her. He remembers snowy afternoons when they would come back from the rink, and she would make hot chocolate for them. Kaitlyn’s hot chocolate was unlike no other. Andrew remembers the time he had tried to make his own hot chocolate but failed miserably. Kaitlyn had watched, her lips pressed together so as to not leak any of her secret hot chocolate making hacks. Now, Andrew realizes, he probably won’t ever get to experience moments like that again. Instead of Andrew sitting across from Kaitlyn, it would be Jackson, and doesn’t think he’s the only one that knows it shouldn’t feel right.  
  
  
When it comes to all things Kaitlyn, everything felt right.  
  
  
Except for letting her go.  
  
  
He glances at the analog clock hanging on the wall across from him, noticing that he’s been up for an hour already and hasn’t done anything he’s been planning to do.  
  
  
If Kaitlyn were here, he’d be much more on track.  
  
  
If Kaitlyn were here, he wouldn’t feel like something about his life was wrong. Not wrong, missing. That’s the word. Kaitlyn’s presence made Andrew’s heart feel whole, but now that she’s gone, he feels like half of him was missing. The realization comes crashing down on him, and he feels almost sick. Like there’s a heaving pain in his chest he can’t get rid of. It makes him want to run to her, wherever she is, and throw his arms around her. If he was with her right now, he’d feel safe and almost invincible, because Kaitlyn had an aura that makes him feel like that, and now he’d never be able to feel that again.  
  
  
Without thinking, Andrew dashes to the door, leaving his half-full mug of coffee on the table along with her empty teddy bear mug sitting across from it. He didn’t bother to finish his coffee, but he doesn’t really how stale it gets. On his way out, Andrew snags the bag he keeps in the entryway, the one he used to never leave the house without in the mornings.  
  
  
And then he leaves.  
  
  
He walks a few stories down to the parking lot, climbs into his car, and steps on the gas.  
  
  
He doesn’t stop driving until he reaches the only place he can let out all of his emotions without becoming a mess on the ground.  
  
  
_The rink._  
  
  
It’s an outdoor one, a mere ten-minute drive from where he lives. Andrew used to go every now and then with Kaitlyn when they had downtime. They would go and skate, not to any set music or choreography, but just whatever their hearts desired. They would move as one, deciding as they went which steps they would take and when, creating their own little patterns they would forget soon after they left.  
  
  
It was a place for them to be themselves on the ice without the pressure of pleasing judges and fans. As Andrew stares down the ice, covered in the light dusting of snow falling from the cloudy grey sky, he feels at home.  
  
  
He sits on a bench beside the rink, lacing his skates. He wonders if Kaitlyn skates often now that she’s moved in with Jackson and started planning for her wedding.  
  
  
_Her_ wedding. It feels strange.  
  
  
Ever since they’d started skating together, Andrew had always imagined that Kaitlyn's wedding would be to himself.  
  
  
Maybe she had thought so as well, until Jackson came into her life.   
  
  
He stands up promptly after tying the final bow, removes his skate guards, and steps onto the rink. He clears his thoughts, or at least tries his hardest to, and _skates_.  
  
  
With every glide of the blade, he feels safer, more at home.  
  
  
_Like when he had Kaitlyn._  
  
  
He throws himself into his skating. Every spread eagle, twizzle, spiral, and spin used every emotion he could muster, and he loves every bit of it.  
  
  
A vibration coming from his pocket shakes him out of his headspace, and Andrew skates back to the bench as he takes out his cell phone. The caller ID reads Scott Moir. He answers because Scott might actually _understand_ him, except he had Tessa, and they were happy. Andrew can't relate.   
  
  
“Hello?” he says, trying to ignore the crack in his voice.  
  
  
“Andrew? Hi,” a breathy female voice calls into the receiver. Definitely not Moir.  
  
  
Tessa.  
  
  
“Oh, hey, Tess…” Why on earth is she calling him? “What’s up?”  
  
  
He hears commotion on the other end as she answers, is that Scott’s voice? “Scott wanted me to tell you — he’s in the middle of a coaching session right now, he's sorry he can't talk — that Patch and Marie have offered you a coaching position here at Gadbois! Marie says you’d make an excellent coach, having worked with you for both Thank You Tours, and she was wondering if you wanted a job. We have way too many teams here and could really use some extra coaching staff, plus she recalled you telling Scott how much you would love to coach, and —”  
  
  
“Oh my God, really, Tess? I’m so happy Marie thought of me, tell her I really appreciate it and if she’s serious then I would be happy to take up the offer,” Andrew says in shock. He’d be able to move back to Canada and work with some of his favourite people in the world. He had always wanted to coach, and now his dream could be coming true!  
  
  
A noise of delight rings through. “So you’ll take the position? Marie said if you needed to consider anything, you could come up sometime in March, before Worlds, to give the teams some pointers? I mean, if that's alright with you. If you're busy, we can reschedule, that's completely fine." Tessa’s speaking really fast, she sounds really happy for him. Or for another reason. He wonders how good of a time she and Scott have been having now that they’ve figured their shit out. He hears her yell something to someone — probably Scott, Marie-France, or Patrice — about how Andrew’s accepted Marie’s very gracious job offer.  
  
  
“Sure, that sounds great,” Andrew says absentmindedly.  
  
  
“And then you can start working for us in June! Oh, and you'll be here anyway because of –” Tessa stops herself. “You _are_ coming to Kaitlyn’s wedding, right?”  
  
  
Andrew knows that in this case, there are two answers: _yes_ and _yes_. As much as he doesn’t want to watch the love of his life marry someone else, he knows he has to be there to support her. And even if he can’t bring himself to go, he knows that Tessa (with the help of Scott, Chiddy, Kaetlyn, Meagan, Eric, Elvis, and the rest of Skate Canada) will come to New York and literally drag his pathetic ass up to wherever Kaitlyn decides to have her wedding.  
  
  
There’s commotion on the other end of the phone, and he hears Tessa say something about putting him on speaker. He’s not really listening. Ever since Tessa mentioned Kaitlyn, his thoughts are now directed towards her.  
  
  
“Andrew, can you hear me? You’re on speaker now,” says Tessa.  
  
  
“Loud and clear,” he replies, snapping back into reality.  
  
  
“Great. Also, you didn’t answer my question.”  
  
  
“What question?” Andrew hears a male voice and the abrupt stop of skates. “Poje, how’ve you been, man?” Scott Moir says loudly into the phone. Andrew can hear the static; Scott must be too close to the phone than he should be. He and technology were never the best of friends.  
  
  
He can’t see it, but he _hears_ Tessa and Scott share a kiss on the other end of the line. Or two. Or three. _Jesus_ , they need to calm down. “Tessa asked me if I’m coming to Kaitlyn’s wedding,” Andrew interrupts.  
  
  
“ _And_?” they ask expectantly in unison because they’re Tessa and Scott.  
  
  
“Yeah,” he murmurs evasively. “Yeah, I’m coming.” He says the latter affirmation more decidedly. Of _course_ he wants to support Kaitlyn at her wedding, even though he’ll more likely be the one needing supporting after he breaks down when Kaitlyn enters the venue dressed as the most beautiful bride, walking to a man completely unworthy of her love.  
  
  
Andrew hears shuffling on the end of the line. Are these two kissing again, he swears to _God_ —  
  
  
“Perfect!” Tessa says cheerily, “We’ll see you in March if we don’t see you before then.”  
  
  
Although they can’t see him, Andrew musters a smile. It’s as genuine of a smile as he can make it today, and he realizes that after the wedding, everything will be alright. He’ll be coaching at Gadbois, and hopefully, forget everything he ever loved about Kaitlyn as she erases herself from her life and paints herself into Jackson’s. But no, he remembers. He’ll be on the ice, which for him, has its fair share of Kaitlyn etched into it just as Scott’s ice is laden with visions of Tessa.  
  
  
“Of course,” is all Andrew can say without choking on his words, and he ends the call with a “see you in March.”  
  
  
God, he’s such a mess.

 

———

 

Andrew twists the front door of his apartment open later that day. Once he’s thrown his skating bag and all of the purchases he made during his errands after he’d left the rink, he collapses on the couch.  
  
  
The couch was the one piece of Kaitlyn had trusted Andrew to buy on his own without her opinion. For one, she always said he had impeccable taste when it came to matching colours, and two, he knew what was up when it came to comfort. Before they’d moved in together, Andrew owned his own apartment, and Kaitlyn had always joked that she didn’t go there for Andrew, she came for the couch. Admittedly, Andrew’s biggest splurges were on skates, food, and couches so one could say that he did have a love for comfort.  
  
  
And comfort is exactly what he needs right now.  
  
  
So, instead of idling on his couch, he gets up and begins to unpack everything he had bought during the day: new skate guards (his were breaking), a case of beer from the liquor store (he had run out and was in desperate need; as Scott would say, a good Canadian boy never had a shortage of beer), and a whole lot of food (because he had apparently found a new love for eating comfort food on the couch sobbing to romcoms; clearly another Scott Moir influence).

 

Andrew loves to cook. However, some of his love for it was lost, as his favourite time to cook was when he dined with Kaitlyn. Admittedly, they ate together every night, but Andrew had always loved coming home from training, showering, and cooking something up for the two of them while Kaitlyn sat on the counter, providing him with laughter and good wine.  
  
  
One of her favourite dishes, he remembers, is macaroni and cheese.  
  
  
He doesn’t know why, but whenever he announced he would be making macaroni and cheese, Kaitlyn was especially happy. That was the only time she would try help out in the kitchen (which didn’t always go as planned, he remembers a few smoke alarms going off here and there). Andrew suspects it was because Kaitlyn liked comfort, but she also valued originality (if that were one hundred percent true, he wonders why they had done certain programs, _cough cough Moulin Rouge_ ).  
  
  
Andrew’s macaroni and cheese wasn’t your typical Kraft Dinner boxed macaroni and cheese. It was homemade, starting from scratch, let’s use real cheese and buy our own macaroni that doesn’t come from any sort of box.  
  
  
Kaitlyn loved it. He was always able to tell from the delightful little noises she made when she ate it, and it was always something Andrew was proud of. Andrew wonders if Jackson makes her macaroni and cheese. He wonders if Jackson can even cook in the first place because when Kaitlyn had introduced the two, there was no conversation of “hey, will you do this and this and this with her because it’s what she deserves?” It was partially because he never imagined them getting so far, but also because aside from New Year’s Eve 2018, Kaitlyn had never been _his_.  
  
  
_His_ as in romantically, sexually, spiritually. She had never been his on any level other than ‘skating partner’ and ‘best friend.’  
  
  
Andrew drains the macaroni he’d put to boil, pours the buttery, creamy cheese sauce he’d made while the pasta was baking over the pasta in the pot. He then pours the pasta into a glass dish onto which he sprinkles a lot of cheese (Kaitlyn had always loved this step, she kind of went crazy with the cheese which always provided Andrew with a good laugh). Once he’s dished a ridiculous amount of cheese onto the pasta (one that would meet Kaitlyn’s standards), Andrew slides the dish into the oven and shuts the door.  
  
  
And he waits.  
  
  
While he waits, Andrew decides to pour some wine for himself. As much as Kaitlyn had always loved her champagne, Andrew knows that she found comfort with a good glass of wine. He's perched on the counter in a very Kaitlyn-esque manner, realizing that this dinner, and this day, really, seems to be centred around Kaitlyn, while she’s not even in the country. She’s probably gallivanting around Canada with Jackson as Andrew sits alone on the kitchen counter of his apartment, swallowing down white wine and moping over her lack of presence.  
  
  
Kaitlyn would probably pity him. She would probably have many thoughts on how pathetic Andrew’s moping was.  
  
  
A loud beep from the oven cues Andrew’s dismount from the counter. He pulls the macaroni and cheese out of the oven and takes in the warm aroma of the dish. It might be a lot for him to eat, but he can always have leftovers.  
  
  
Andrew sets his place, and after waiting for about ten minutes (so the macaroni and cheese can cool down), he shovels some of it onto his plate and digs in.  
  
  
The macaroni and cheese has the taste and texture of cheesy, gooey goodness that Kaitlyn would have appreciated. It’s truly a comfort food — the dish fills him up so much that he almost forgets his sadness. Briefly, his state of mind is restored to the one he had been in when the reality behind Kaitlyn’s engagement hadn’t quite gotten to him yet. He feels at ease, like how he would have felt if Kaitlyn was here right now, eating with him, complimenting him on his cooking, telling him jokes, and just talking with him.  
  
  
He misses her _so, so much_.  
  
  
And he wanted to bet that only the smallest part of Kaitlyn missed him too.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading if you got this far! comments and constructive criticism go a long way ;)
> 
> holler at me on twitter: @/viirtuemoirs


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